’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. She was shocked. "I can't tell you!" she replied, blushing deeply, and clinching her little hand as tightly as possible; "it's a secret!" "I'll soon find it out, then," he returned, playfully forcing the paper from her grasp. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. Give me the chisel, Blueskin.
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